#drunkxavier

All because one of your coworkers insisted you have a drink despite you repeatedly turning the offer down, attempting to spare the experience of being hammered today. The brunet pushed a glass of liquor towards you, coaxing you to believe that “just one drink won’t hurt.” 

Saying that you were annoyed would be an understatement, and your eyes darted about to find some sort of an excuse to slip away from your overbearing coworker. There wasn’t anyone around at the gathering of the hunter’s association to save you, all your friends either being occupied or already drunk and slumped over at the bar. You begrudgingly wrap your fingers around the shot-glass, praying in your mind that taking this shot will brush this coworker off your back. Before you could lift up the glass, another pair of fingers encased yours.

“She doesn’t wish to drink tonight,” Xavier interjects, the rough edge of his tone apparent despite his calm demeanour. 

“Come on! It can’t possibly be that bad,” The man jeers with a roll of his eyes. Xavier’s jaw clenches and he immediately latches his lips to the rim of the glass and tilts his head back to down the shot completely before you could chime in. The man’s eyebrows quirk up, and he challenges Xavier to another shot.

From there, it only escalated. One shot turned to two, which turned to five and that’s how you ended up in the back of a cab with a drowsy Xavier nuzzling his face into your shoulder. 

You sit still, arms crossed in front of your chest. You aren’t amused at all with the fact that Xavier fell into the trap, that he kept accepting challenges and drinking more regardless of the fact that it was obviously all a ruse just to irk Xavier and get him drunk. 

“You didn’t have to drink every shot he offered you… he was just messing with you,” you scolded Xavier lightly, nudging his head away with your finger. 

He only whines in response. He’s leaned against your left shoulder, his arms encircling your body so his hands are linked by your right hip. “I- I didn’t like that guy.” 

“Like or not, you shouldn’t just fall for people’s tricks like that,” you press further. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but Xavier to be painfully cute in this state. You watch the cab turn into your street intently and come to a halt in front of your apartment building. 

You lugged the drunk man out of the cab, he walked beside you with a contemplative pout tugging at his lips. The second you two board into the elevator and the door closes, Xavier steps in behind you and his chin immediately makes home on your shoulder. 

“You smell sweet,” he whispers. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when his breath ghosts over your neck. His fingers trail from your shoulder, to your elbow, down your forearm and grazing over your wrist until his fingers interlock with yours.

“Xavier…” You try to warn him, but the words die on your tongue when the elevator doors open and you step forward with a clingy Xavier hung around your shoulders like your own personal human backpack. 

You manage to enter his apartment, taking off your shoes and Xavier follows suit by hastily kicking off his own. His apartment looks like it always does, like nobody resides here. It’s always clean, untouched and the furniture is straight from a catalogue with barely any personality gracing the place. That’s aside from a small photo frame hung on the wall by the entrance from the time you both modelled for the Twinkle Photobooth. It was a small pop of colour against the otherwise dull white walls. 

You’re stopped from taking another step into the living room when Xavier’s hands place on your waist and pull you until your back makes contact with his broad chest. He’s more needy than usual and acting as if he’s allergic to letting you go at all. His thumbs rub tender circles into your hips, his lips pressing soft kisses along the column of your neck. When his hand snakes up dangerously close to the hem of your shirt, you immediately grab his wrist and stop him.

His eyes open, caught by surprise. 

“You don’t want-?” 

“Shouldn’t we get to bed?” You cut him off. You hate to be falling under his spell when he’s intoxicated, even if it’s becoming increasingly hellish to hold back. The moment you hold the reins of your self-control and push it down, you start to forcefully nudge him into his bedroom where you plan to leave him there when he falls asleep.

“I’m not too drunk. I feel fine enough to move on my own,” Xavier protests. He lets himself be shoved into his bedroom. He wants to convince you that he isn’t as drunk as you’re making it seem especially after noticing that you were actively ignoring his protests.

Planted by the foot of his bed, you expect Xavier to give up and go to sleep like he usually does. He starts to tug off his white jacket, swinging it off his arms and discarding it on the ground. It leaves him in a form-fitting black turtleneck that he was wearing underneath. Your eyes shamelessly rest right on the places where the fabric really accentuates the muscles he conceals most of the time. 

Xavier doesn’t relent on his show of affection towards you. He leans in and pecks your lips. You immediately step back from him, half from instinct and half from plainly wanting to mess with him. His eyebrows furrow and his pout is imminent from watching you move away. 

“Please?” He beseeched, as if a kiss equated to oxygen for him. 

You roll your eyes, trying to present yourself as annoyed but as soon as you blink his lips crash against yours again. It was a soft exchange at first but desperation was quick to consume him, his soul practically pouring into the kiss and causing you two to stumble back onto his bed. 

You find yourself not minding the faint scent of alcohol that exudes from his clothing. His warmer, larger body hovers over yours and his lips work fervently with yours. He uses one hand to steady himself over you and the other hand slides up to cup your chin, tilting your face up even more to deepen the kiss. 

Your fingers tangle into his hair, gripping at the blond locks to keep yourself sane so you don’t absolutely lose it with the way Xavier is acting like he needs this, like this is his sole purpose. Even if it was inevitable, your composure was slipping faster than sand between your fingers. You can’t help the way you suddenly tug at his hair, the action eliciting a low grunt from him, the sound guttural from surprise. The moment your lips separate and your eyes meet again, his gaze is darkened to a deep blue. 

“Do that again,” He orders. His voice breathy and teetering on a whimper. You weren’t expecting him to suddenly pause and request you tug at his hair again. Did he… like it? When you tighten your grip on the roots of his locks again, he gives a reaction similar to the last. His body shudders, a low groan escaping his lips.  

“You have no idea what you do me…” He mutters. He leans back in for more, the way his mind demands for you is enough to engulf him. He becomes lost in the sensations. Your lips, your body, you. Tonight, he plans to do nothing but show you exactly how much he appreciates you.

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